Chapter 13: A New Understanding — This Time, I Truly Know You

The pale and delicate youth named Bo Ren carried Lin Zhao, whose physique was even stronger and taller, with a light and effortless step, as if cradling a piece of silk.

He did not walk quickly, yet the distant city, appearing like a speck on the horizon, gradually drew nearer with each graceful stride. Within just a few breaths, they stood beneath the massive foot of the city’s giant tortoise.

The tortoise’s head tilted skyward like a towering mountain, rising abruptly nearly eight thousand meters from the ground without any slope to ease the drop. A mere glance at it was enough to induce a suffocating terror of immense scale, as if it might collapse at any moment.

Lin Zhao calmed himself, knowing he wouldn’t truly die. He was curious to discover what exactly this strange creature was.

He strained his eyes to discern the tortoise’s details. The thick, short neck bore many patterns resembling the cloud and thunder motifs found on ancient bronze vessels—majestic and archaic. It was hard to imagine the majestic power it must have commanded when alive.

Bo Ren did not lead him further upward. Instead, he bowed his head and softly recited a spell.

Almost simultaneously, a deep tunnel appeared beneath their feet, barely wide enough for one person—a tomb-like entrance leading into the unknown.

Lin Zhao felt a pang of disappointment that they were not ascending.

But soon, he had no time to dwell on that.

Because here, it was unbearably cold.

As Bo Ren descended deeper underground, the jet-black tunnel grew increasingly chilling, numbing his blood as if it would freeze.

Unable to speak or move, Lin Zhao’s frustration mounted. He vowed that once he rewound time, he would kill this creature a hundred times over.

After an indeterminate length of time, just as Lin Zhao felt he might freeze to death, he finally saw light again.

It was a vast underground hall, its far end swallowed by darkness. The expansive vaulted ceiling stretched endlessly, like the inverted earth itself. Dim flames faintly illuminated the ridges on the ceiling, which resembled the vertebrae of a spine... a spine!

Suddenly, Lin Zhao realized: this must be the giant tortoise’s body, and the ceiling was its shell.

Their base was actually inside the tortoise’s shell!

Bo Ren led him to a high altar from which they could overlook the gray-black, undulating mountain ranges beneath the shell. Within these mountains, dozens of flames shot upward, illuminating this indescribably magnificent scene.

Lin Zhao thought that if this place were on Earth, it would surely be a top-tier scenic spot—only marred by the cold blue flames, resembling natural gas fires, which gave off little brightness.

Finally, Bo Ren brought him to the altar’s edge, placed him against a vertical stone pillar, and suspended him with chains on either side. At the same time, he loosened the rough linen garment covering Lin Zhao, revealing the youth’s lean waist, supple chest, and delicate collarbones.

Panic set in for Lin Zhao. Something felt wrong. He tried to struggle, but the stone pillar behind him radiated a heavier coldness, stiffening his body further.

Around the altar, dozens of black-robed figures appeared silently, cloaked and wearing ghostly masks.

They stood motionless in a surrounding arc, utterly silent.

Bo Ren smiled gently and stepped forward, producing a two-foot-long bone needle. With a compassionate expression, he softly touched Lin Zhao’s wrist and pierced it with the needle. Immediately, arterial blood gushed forth, dripping into the intricate patterns carved into the floor.

Though Lin Zhao had developed some resistance to pain from previous simulations, the needle’s entry still felt excruciating—like a branding iron pressed unrelentingly against an open wound. Had he been able to move, he would have flapped his wings wildly in agony.

But Bo Ren did not stop. Maintaining his solemn and compassionate demeanor, he proceeded to pierce the other wrist, ankles, neck, and chest with the same cruel procedure. When the needle finally pierced Lin Zhao’s heart, Bo Ren whispered gently by his ear, “Don’t be afraid; it won’t hurt for long.”

Lin Zhao was far from afraid—his eyes widened in fury, and he longed to tear the wretched man apart.

Bo Ren did not withdraw the needle but stepped back, half-kneeling before the pillar, softly chanting an ancient ritual song.

The melody began as a solo, gradually merging into a harmonious chorus, soon accompanied by the mournful tones of the xun and the flute.

“You really should add a suona!” Lin Zhao thought bitterly. Yet as they bowed their heads in reverence and sang, absurd shadows appeared around them.

He saw a giant purple-golden three-legged bird—its body mere bones, yet within its eye sockets were two pairs of eyes filled with bloodshot hatred. Ominous purple vines crawled over the skeleton.

He also glimpsed a purple-skinned turtle resembling the tortoise outside, bearing a huge snake on its back. Their skins were composed of countless human faces pieced together.

Just a brief glance caused Lin Zhao’s eyes to ache fiercely, almost blinding him. He had to lower his eyelids and gaze instead at the enormous pool of blood that had spilled, filling the engraved floor patterns.

There had to be at least eight hundred milliliters of blood—and yet he was still alive, feeling able to lose another eight hundred milliliters.

Unexpectedly, he had become a blood ox.

But gradually, Lin Zhao sensed danger.

The blood in the floor’s patterns, under their prayers and chants, slowly shifted from red to black, then to a faintly glowing purple. It began to flow upward along the pillar’s grooves, coiling around his ankles like snakes, attempting to seep into his body through the wounds there.

In an instant, cold sweat drenched the stone pillar behind Lin Zhao’s back.

Without knowing why, he sensed that once this blood entered his heart, the soul within his body would be replaced. His “self” would become nourishment and part of something else.

He would not die—but he would become... another person?

Realizing this, his entire being erupted. Feathers on his chest suddenly ignited, and a massive surge of heat assaulted the bone needle lodged in his heart. Golden flames rose from the needle.

Bo Ren noticed and cast him a reproachful glance. He reached out, touching the needle to extinguish the flames, as if to say, “How can you reject my kindness...”

Hatred filled Lin Zhao’s eyes. He directed one feather to attack the needle in his chest, while another, not fully manifested, silently circled his heart, melting the cold rigidity there. If he could ignite his heart, he could start anew—but it would take time.

Just as Lin Zhao anxiously wished for speed, fearing doom, the chanting suddenly ceased.

Even the purple blood attempting to invade his body halted.

Looking up, Lin Zhao saw a new, unwelcome presence amidst the bizarre illusions.

A familiar yet twisted ghostly mask appeared, quietly concealed. Its gaping mouth bit down on a cloaked figure, and once noticed, it calmly swallowed the figure whole.

By then, only about ten cloaked figures remained in the square—meaning that soon, this ghostly mask might silently devour everyone present.

Lin Zhao quickened his pace, displeased.

“A mantis stalking the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind—so while I’m being eaten, you come here for a buffet?”

Bo Ren flipped his fingertips, summoning a multitude of ghostly shadows behind him. He spoke softly, “Which Heavenly Witch graces this sacred place?”

Almost simultaneously, the ghost mask fell onto a hand, revealing a handsome young man wearing a crown of thorns and four layered necklaces, dressed in a raven-black gown.

“I know all thirty-nine Heavenly Witches of the Witchland,” Bo Ren smiled, “but none use a ghost mask totem. Since you have come this far, why hide your identity?”

“I do not hide it,” the young man replied solemnly. “It’s just that my true totem is not suitable for use.”

Bo Ren laughed aloud this time. Then his expression turned grim: “If that’s the case, I shall offer you and your totem to the true Origin!”

Suddenly, the surrounding space trembled violently. From the illusory void, the phantom tortoise-snake creature thrust forth a colossal head, gradually solidifying. Its immense size rivaled the giant tortoise outside the city, as if it had come to life anew.

The young man seemed resigned. He glanced at Lin Zhao and offered a reassuring smile.

Then, folding his arms over his chest and bending his spine, he revealed a beautiful back upon which a verdant-blue totem suddenly appeared.

Lin Zhao seemed to see a gigantic tree connecting heaven and earth, shrouding the entire world.

In an instant, the entire realm quaked.

Everything around them—walls, illusions, bodies, stone slabs—sprouted countless new shoots and green leaves bursting forth.

Lin Zhao even saw a small sapling growing where the bone needle met his chest, pushing the needle out and simultaneously covering and healing the wound.

Yet, though this was clearly a healing power, when it fell upon those disordered figures opposite, it was far from gentle.

The remaining cloaked figures fell to the ground in an instant, transforming into pools of clothing. A two-inch sapling sprouted on the garments, leaving observers puzzled—where were the people?

Across from him, Bo Ren’s face was ghastly pale, fierce purple flames engulfing the green shoots on his body. The surrounding illusions gradually faded into the saplings, as if being consumed for nourishment.

His voice emerged between clenched teeth, cold and filled with hatred: “You are not a Heavenly Witch. You are the Ninth Divine Son, the Eastern Azure Emperor, Ji Yaoguang.”